


Chained but Unbound

by Square_Pancake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Erik, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Consent, Happy Ending, Heats, Implied offscreen non-con of unnamed characters, M/M, Omega Charles, Rimming, attempted forced bonding, attempted magical self-sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Square_Pancake/pseuds/Square_Pancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the priests come to collect natural magic users, they take the unbound omegas and maim the alphas.  Westchester managed to avoid any cullings, so for years best friends Charles and Erik thought they were safe, and made plans accordingly. But a mage of Charles's strength cannot go unnoticed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chained

Charles carefully adjusts the rag tucked around Jean’s collar to minimize the clinking noise as Hank does the same for Alex. He is hit by a wave of vertigo as he stands from his kneeling position and knows that the others needed to leave soon, before it was too late.

Handing his extra knife to the younger man, Charles gestures them through the small door that leads to the servant’s passages.

“Go, and remember, find someplace defensible away from any of the priests. The Southerners will probably breach the walls before sundown and the priests will be desperate. Don’t let them use you as hostages.”

Hank hesitates, wrapping his long fingers around Charles’s manacled wrists.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us? They say the Southerners are good to omegas.” Charles can hear the anxiety in Hank’s voice, even if his mind-speech is muffled by the chains they are both draped in. 

Charles lowers his voice to make sure the younger children can’t hear before answering, “Any other day I’d come with you, but right now it’s not safe - my heat will start soon, and you can’t take care of me and keep the little ones hidden once it starts.”

Charles sighs and admits, “and even if the Southerners are good to omegas, I’m not letting a stranger bind me any more than I will one of the priests.” He forcefully represses the memories of long-ago promises to his best friend that they would protect each other by entering a mutual bond.

Hank nods reluctantly, merely saying, “may the Huntress keep you free,” before ushering the children into the darkness, leaving Charles behind.

Charles curls his hand into a fist and kisses his knuckle in supplication to the virgin goddess and then pushes the door shut. It is difficult to access his magic with the suppression chains on his wrists and neck, but Charles has had four years of practice.

Carefully pulling out a tendril of power, Charles insinuates it along the door-frame, growing the wood into the door itself. The physical barrier in place, Charles threads a compulsion to ignore this area of the temple along the corridor, anchoring the command to the flagstones. It is weak, but should last long enough for Hank to get the children entirely clear of the compound before someone remembered the potential escape route.

At one time Charles was sure that he’d manage to avoid the culling of gifted omegas and that his talent for magic would go unnoticed- his home was a small outlying village, the priests rarely visited, and the presence of naturally gifted children had been a community secret. When the priests came to Westchester the year his mother married Kurt Marko and just after he turned sixteen, Charles barely had time to warn the other gifted to run; the omegas from capture and chains, and the alphas from capture and gelding.

A gifted omega was only vulnerable to forced bonds during their first heat; magic lashed out against any violation of the body at other times. Even subsequent heats were safe once a mage’s magic and body had learned to adapt. Charles was grateful that he had lasted so long without entering a mating period.

True, a forced bond didn’t confer nearly the same level of benefits as a mutual bond, but with a mage of Charles’s power, the priests vying for the right to bond him were more than willing to accept a lesser gain once it became clear that Charles was uninterested in accepting an alpha. (Cultivating such acceptance was yet another reason they tried to collect omegas early when they were more susceptible to indoctrination).

Both Cardinal Essex and Bishop Stryker had taken to hanging around the capital after Charles reached the age of seventeen, eager to claim a natural mind speaker. Charles is bitterly glad that they had wasted so much time. At twenty, Charles is far older than most omegas entering heat for the first time.

No matter what he had told Hank, Charles is fairly certain he will not survive the heat. He had prepared a few locations with water-skins so the dehydration will probably not kill him, but no place in the complex is truly secure once pheromones filled the air and started drawing alphas. The fact that the city is in the midst of losing a siege did not help.

Charles would do his best to defend himself, but in the end he knows that he’d rather die than let one of the priests bind him.

* * *

“Come on, Charles, I’ll be good to you,” Bishop Stryker’s voice is pitched low in an attempt to be seductive.  “We’ve both been waiting for this Charles.  And you’ll feel better once your magic has calmed down.”

Charles stands alone in the empty room, his feet stained with dried blood.  This storeroom was his last retreat and now the one door is bolted shut behind the alpha. From what he can tell, the Southerners have not breached the main compound, but would succeed at any moment; the priests were scrambling to find a way to escape being cut down.  Apparently the assumption was that once Charles’s power was tamed, his alpha would be able to escape the city by forcing Charles to hide them with his abilities.

At least that’s what Charles could glean from Cardinal Essex’s mad mutters when the priest cornered Charles in his first hideout.  The man had been so preoccupied with his planning, and so assured that the suppression chains would keep Charles physically docile, that he easily fell to Charles’s rather inexperienced knife stroke.

Essex's hands, which had been reaching out to stroke Charles’s back, flew to the gushing wound in his neck, crimson flowing through his fingers as he desperately tried to staunch the bleeding.  The part of Charles that wasn’t suffering from the suppression chains’ backlash coolly noted that the man took a surprisingly short amount of time to bleed out. His death was cleaner than that of many sacrificial animals Essex had personally killed on the altar with ceremonial blades gone too long unsharpened.

The rest of Charles reeled as the collar tightened around his neck.  His vision went black for a moment before his magic surged forward and shielded him once more.  Charles was grateful that his last act before they chained him years ago in Westchester was managing to put a siphon on the enchanted metal.  It didn’t free him, but the wild magic flowing through the suppression chains slowly degraded the compulsions that should have kept Charles under control. A small gasp of freedom he slowly tried to weave into as many suppression enchantments as he encountered.

Experience working with metal was one more boon he can credit to his childhood.  As his breath returned, Charles once again locked away his memories.  Now was not the time to focus on long-ago plans and promises.  Now was the time to wipe the blood off his feet so he didn’t leave a trail of bloody footprints to match his pheromones as he tried to evade other alphas.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he had managed to kill the man he feared most among the priesthood.  If Essex had managed to bind him, Charles knew that he’d have never escaped.  They’d either have left the city together or died together, with Charles little more than an automaton under the other man’s control.

Charles had hoped that the scent of blood from Essex would be enough to drive the less disciplined alphas into fighting each other; blood-lust overwhelming the mating pheromones. If it did have that effect, Charles didn’t see any sign of it.  Instead he saw what felt like an endless parade of alphas trying to force a bond.

Charles killed six other priests before Stryker found him.  Intellectually he knows that he’d mourn the blood on his hands eventually, for his own sake, if not the alphas that he killed.  But that intellectual acknowledgement is lost under the sheer chaotic force of his magic.  The way the power writhes through him is startlingly unfamiliar, not the warm core that he has known all his life, but a raging torrent of magic that cries out for completion.  If not for the suppression chains, Charles is sure that he could manage his own magic’s flow, but the dual disruptions of his heat and the enchantments put him at the mercy of wild magic.

Really, Stryker has made the wisest choice, waiting for Charles’s own magic and body to betray him. If not for his past efforts to free his magic and dealing with the subsequent backlash, Charles very well might have given in to the priest just to have the magic soothed rather than endure the sensation of being burned from the inside out.

Only fierce determination keeps Charles armed as Stryker sidles into the room.  He clearly is hoping to start the bond soon so that Charles’s magic and pheromones will stop attracting alphas, and probably plans to keep them hidden until they could escape.

Stryker reaches out a hand, confident in his movement, exuding control and power. He is counting on his ability to project the natural posture of an alpha to soothe Charles's omega instincts. He hisses when Charles strikes out with the knife, quick as a cat, and scores a line against his forearm.

“Really Charles, that isn’t necessary.  And you’ll only suffer for it later.  Just let me soothe you, I can make everything better.”  The priest carefully unhooks a flask from his belt before offering it to the cornered omega.  “All the running and fighting…you must be getting overheated Charles.”

Truthfully Charles is panting as his body enters deeper into his heat cycle.  The water skins he had carefully tucked away were insufficient once his heat started in earnest and his magic stopped reinforcing his body. Still, the omega isn’t stupid. No priest carries water around in a hip-flask, and Charles is wary of the smugness skittering around Stryker's face (or is it his mind? Charles isn’t even sure what he sees and what he feels anymore).

Reaching out to grab the flask will put Stryker close enough to slash with the dagger, and Charles isn’t foolish enough to drink from anything offered to him.  Slowly sidling forward, Charles firms his grip on the dagger while reaching out with his left hand.  He can see his hand shaking slightly, exhausted collapse held at bay only by his magic’s rampant churning.  

Charles can see the satisfaction in Stryker’s eyes as he nears, so the omega tries his best to use that emotional response and compel Stryker to forget the right hand that carried the knife. Charles's right foot is closest to Stryker, so his torso twists slightly, and Charles hopes that extra rotation would add much needed power to his blow against the bishop.  

Charles reaches out with his left hand and plucks the flask from Stryker, immediately pivoting on his front foot to bring the dagger into play.  If the trap had been the contents of the flask, the omega’s plan would have succeeded. Instead, as soon as Charles’s fingers brush the polished steel, the metal seems to cling to his fingers, and the strength seeps from his limbs.  The blow against Stryker becomes a collapse into the alpha’s arms while the bishop easily disarms him.  

Belatedly, through the haze in his vision, Charles sees that Stryker is wearing gloves; the metal of the flask itself contained some sort of trap that Charles has fallen for.  In other circumstances Charles would have berated himself for such a stupid move, but now he only feels a numb sort of despair. At this point, Stryker just has to wait; eventually Charles will either exhaust his magic entirely or give in just to stop the pain. 

Blinking back tears he can’t afford to shed in his already dehydrated state, Charles decides to take the final option available to him.  His magic won’t be tamed for a small spell that might repel just the other man, but the upheaval in his core can be directed towards a single target; a flash flood that will swell beyond Charles’s control.

A dying mage could throw out their magic in a death curse that was nearly unstoppable as it was fueled by a blood sacrifice.  Charles isn’t dying, yet, but he is fairly confident that he can force his magic into the same pattern.  If he can get a moment to concentrate, his final strike will cost him his life, but will also strike out against Stryker and anyone with a sufficient magical connection to him.  

Surreptitious study and research suggested that Charles might well be able to take out the entire priesthood hierarchy that had driven the most powerful mage in living history to this point. 

Unfortunately, Stryker is clearly driven by a sense of urgency that doesn’t allow Charles much time to focus.  The alpha briskly pulls at Charles’s tunic, finally just ripping the cloth free, leaving the omega clad in only loose pants.  Charles’s attempts to push his hands away are met with a harsh slap across the omega’s face.  

Stryker then unceremoniously drops the omega to the floor, and starts to loosen his own garments, leaving Charles’s trousers in place for the moment.  Dazed, Charles tries to reach through the churning power and ignores the alpha crouched above him.  The magic tears at him, trying to push him towards completion and union, but Charles bites his lip and presses forward.  Slowly wisps of magic come under his control, and Charles begins to guide the surge where he wants it.

A thump against the bolted door tears Charles from his concentration.  Power slides from his control and heaves outwards while Charles writhed under the magic’s pull.  Desperately, he tries to regain his bearing and hold fast against the upheaval, but the current is too fast, and all Charles can do is gasp and hold onto his sense of self.

Luckily, Stryker is also distracted from his activities.  The hand that had previously dropped to a belt buckle instead scrabbles to unsheathe a dagger, presumably to ward off anyone who plans to interrupt. However, just as the dagger is loose from its sheath, the weapon is  yanked forwards, the knife imbedding itself into the door.  As Stryker is pulled forward by his grip on the dagger, a hard strike forces the door open, propelling the solid oak into the priest.  

A tall, lean man steps through the door and smirks at the fallen priest, who is gushing blood from a clearly broken nose.  A quick strike through the neck with the stranger's sword ends the bishop’s life, but Charles is not soothed. The new man isn’t a priest, but the way Charles's magic rushes to embrace the stranger tells him everything he needs to know; this is just another alpha.  

Resigned, Charles again tries to focus his magic for sacrifice when he abruptly becomes aware of the stranger kicking the enchanted flask away Charles’s hand. The alpha then drops to his knees, and Charles dreads the inevitable vulnerability of his clothes being stripped. Instead, the stranger begins pulling at the chains wrapped around Charles’s wrists.

Surprised, Charles tries to move his hands towards the alpha to make it easier.  If the chains are loose, at the very least Charles can survive his heat on his own, and might well master his magic enough to ward off any would-be claimants.  

Or so he thinks until he feels the calloused fingertips on his feverish skin.  The touch isn’t erotic or even seductive, just fingers shifting the chain so the man could find the runes anchoring the locking mechanism. But the drag of the roughened skin on his sensitive wrists drives Charles into a new height of desperation.  Charles had never before wanted to be touched nor wanted to explore any pleasures of the flesh, but now he wants those hands to never stop touching.

Distantly, he realizes that even with his magic unbound, his body might betray him. Still, when the silent alpha pulls the chains off both his wrists, Charles manages to refrain from pulling the alpha down on top of him so he can relish in the soothing touch against his body.

Concentrating on holding still, Charles instead meets the stranger’s eyes for the first time as he reaches for the collar on the omega’s neck.  A slow recognition prods at Charles’s mind, the grey eyes and scarred lip familiar features that have haunted Charles’s dreams.  Apparently noticing Charles’s lucidity, the man cradles Charles’s face between his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Erik,” whispers Charles, ready to accept this as a comforting fever dream if it isn’t reality.

“I meant every word Charles. I told you that I would find you.”


	2. History

Erik has always known Charles.  His earliest memories are of his mother leaning down so he can see the babe. Erik remembers blue eyes and that’s about it.  Once they’re separated, Erik has many more memories to fall back on, but it’s still blue eyes that haunt him.

Growing up in their small village, it doesn’t matter that Charles is the beloved son of the well-regarded healer and that Erik is the son of the late blacksmith.  It doesn’t matter that Erik lives with the Xaviers with his widowed mother working as their housekeeper because the benevolent Healer Xavier would not see her suffer even more after their loss.  There is no space in their community for stringent class divides when the entire community depends on mutual secrecy to protect the children.

Nearly every child born in Westchester in Erik’s generation is a natural mage.  No one is certain why this is true, though Healer Xavier had wondered out loud whether a spell had gone awry that opened up their village to mystic influences.

Whatever the reason, with so many children being gifted, no family wants the priesthood to descend on their hamlet and take away their omegas; as always, Erik’s mind shies away from stories of the wrecks that alphas are left after the priest mages finish with them.

In another time or village, Erik would not have had the chance to claim so much of Charles’s attention. Even before he understands _why_ he feels the way he does, Erik is happy that Charles is _his_.  (The way that Charles crawls into his bed when it storms so Erik can protect him just proves it).

By the time Charles is allowed out of the house without an adult, he is always with Erik.  The older boy guards his time jealously, his scowl fearsome even as a child, and few are willing to risk Erik’s moods.  From what Erik can tell, Charles never even notices the other children vying for his attention, he’s always fixed on Erik.  Erik is glad and frankly does little to disguise his satisfaction.

This lasts through most of their childhood until at the age of thirteen Erik is apprenticed to the blacksmith.  Erik’s magic has been acting out in odd ways recently as though desperate to be used, and it has always been drawn to metal; so when his mother suggests that he follow his father’s trade, Erik is open to the idea.  Charles still sometimes crawls into his bed, but now Erik worries that the soot always on his hands will mark the younger man.  Worries but hopes as well- he cannot help but enjoy the thought of Charles bearing his marks.

For the first time, when Charles leaves the house, he’s not always accompanied by Erik.  Erik watches, seething silently as the other children - _interlopers-_ try to gain Charles’s favor.  It’s easy to see why.  From a distance, Charles is an adorable child, with big blue eyes, dimples, and tousled brown hair.  Up close, Charles seems to radiate magic and it is a rare person who is not drawn to his light. At the age of eleven, Charles is surrounded by children and even though he understands why, Erik hates it.

Fortunately for Erik, Charles’s gifts grow with him, and so many children tax his nascent mind-speaking.  The younger boy often seeks solace with the apprentice, standing far back from the forge, but learning how to twine his magic with metal as he hides away from the world behind Erik’s scowl.

It’s good to know that Charles still chooses Erik, and goes a long way towards soothing his nameless worry.

* * *

 

When Charles’s father dies just after Charles turns twelve, Charles turns to Erik.  And when his mother passes, finally wasting away in her endless longing for her bondmate, fifteen year old Erik shows his grief only to Charles.  This time it is Erik ghosting into Charles’s room and curling up at the foot of the bed. It is only when Charles wakes up and pulls the older boy into a hug that Erik lets himself cry.  Erik doesn’t sleep in his own room for weeks.

Charles continues in his father’s footsteps, studying healing and endearing himself to the community. His mother tries to kick Erik out of the Xavier household: Charles threatens to leave with his friend and she drops the issue.  Erik wasn’t supposed to hear their fight, but is happier knowing that Charles would follow him.

Erik is still fifteen when word comes that a nearby village had been visited by the priests.  Baxter is only a day’s ride from Westchester and had been left alone for nearly as long.  When an exhausted gifted alpha collapses not far from Westchester, Erik and Charles are among those who hear his story.

The details had always been sketchy before, the priesthood more of a looming threat than a real fear, but the stranger offers a nightmarish description of his omega sister being locked into enchanted chains; the screams of the alphas the priests had captured haunt his eye.  

Charles has a much more visceral experience of the attack.

In soothing the alpha with his abilities and ascertaining his threat level, Charles now has intimate magical knowledge of exactly the kind of slavery he could expect for himself. He doesn’t go into detail about the mutilation of alphas, and Erik can only hope it’s out of ignorance rather than horror.

Later, after they had sent the alpha to what dubious safety he can find over the border, Erik begins to make contingency plans.  For all that he doesn’t like most of them, the gifted of Westchester are his people, and he’d rather they all escape together than watch anyone fall.

Charles crawls into his bed that night and curls against him, his back pushed into Erik’s chest, and the pressure of his little fingers scoring marks into Erik’s forearms where they cling as though the alpha would be going away too.

“I’m afraid,” he whispers into the darkness.

Erik pulls him closer to his chest but says nothing, only listening.  

“If they come and take me, I’ll just disappear, I’ll be lost and forgotten just like those omegas they took in Baxter.”

Erik turns Charles in his arms so the younger boy is looking at him, even though he knows his face is barely visible in the darkness.  “Don’t be afraid. I will always come for you.”  It’s hours before Charles falls asleep, but Erik hopes he believes it. He means every word.

* * *

 

Erik is sixteen and Charles is fourteen and it’s too hot to work in the forge.  Erik steals Charles away from his studies and they swim in river, letting the water take the edge off the summer heat.

Erik had always noticed Charles, but stripped down to swim in the river, Erik finds that he’s noticing Charles in an entirely different way.  His eyes are fixed on Charles’s pale skin and the dimples on his lower back. He has the absurd urge to pull Charles tight against his body and splay his hands across the small of his back, covering them from anyone else’s sight.

Charles is oblivious to the new edge to Erik’s gaze.  For the first time, Erik is glad of his embarrassing conversations with Brian Xavier before the healer passed.  As an alpha, Erik is seeing Charles in a way that the omega won’t understand for quite some time.  Until Charles goes into heat for the first time, he will remain cheerfully oblivious to the desire running through Erik’s veins.

Erik doesn’t mind waiting. Charles is the only one he wants, and he can only hope that he will be what Charles wants when the time comes.

Ironically, it is Charles who first broaches the topic of mating, even though it is still abstract to him.  They’re sitting outside, and Charles is eating an apple Erik picked from a nearby tree for him.

“The traders talk sometimes about the cullings.  They don’t bother with bonded pairs.” Charles says.

“That’s true.  Your father said that only pre-heat omegas are taken- after their first heat the priests can’t force a bond,” Erik wraps his arm around Charles’s shoulders and pulls him against his side.  “And there is no point in making a bonded pair the enemy. They might kill powerful couples, but it's risky and there is no point in taking a gifted omega that they cannot bond. And out here on the borders they probably wouldn't want to make waves for so little reward.”

“I worry sometimes. My father said that the strength of my gifts would make me a target, and the magic I throw off during my first heat will attract other alphas to Westchester if I’m not bonded early in my heat. I don’t want to be the reason the priests come here.  We don’t have the people necessary to keep them away.”

Erik scowls at the thought of priests coming here, even if by that point Charles would be safe from them. His arm involuntarily tightens until Charles is nearly draped over him, he’s been pulled so close.

Charles’s voice is dispassionately clinical when he concludes, “so I need to bond as soon as I enter my first heat.”

Erik’s mouth is dry. Charles can’t possibly know what his words are doing to him, though he’s close enough to Erik’s lap that he might figure it out fairly soon.

Charles continues, “if I bond with an alpha right away, the magical flare will be minimal and no one will come here.”

Erik settles for nodding his head in agreement.  

Charles must feel the movement, because he continues, “I’m sure there are alphas in the village who would bond with me.”

Erik cannot help the snarl at the suggestion that any other alpha might bond with Charles.

Charles twists in the embrace and cups Erik’s chin with both hands.  “But that wouldn’t keep you safe, only being in a pairing will protect us both.”

Erik wants to agree. He wants to write it on their souls in blood and magic and have it be unbreakable until the day he bonds with Charles, but this isn’t the way he wants it.  He doesn’t want Charles to seek a bond to protect Erik.  At the same time, Charles is right, he is by far the strongest mage any of them have even heard of, and to protect the village Charles cannot be allowed to broadcast his magic during his heats.

Also, Erik is fairly confident he’d kill anyone else who tried to touch Charles, let alone bond with him.

So Erik settles for, “I’d do anything to protect you Charles.  Anything.  But if you change your mind, we don’t have to bond.  I’ll take us both over the border to the badlands.  You don’t have to bond with me to protect Westchester, we just have to leave.”

Frowning, Charles protests, “If you don’t want to bond with me, I can find someone else.  I’d just…I’d just rather be tied to you.  You’re already my other half.”

Erik fiercely responds, “Never think I don’t want you Charles.  You’re the only person I’d ever bond with.”  He closes his eyes and leans his head into Charles’s hands before admitting, “I just want you to want me as more than just a shield for Westchester.”

Charles snakes his hands around Erik’s neck and whispers in his ear, “I cannot imagine wanting anyone else. And once my heat starts, I’m sure I’ll say the same thing.  My magic already reaches out for you, and only you.”

It’s true, and Erik has felt the comforting embrace of Charles’s magic his whole life.  He just always thought that everyone felt the grasp of Charles's magic enfolding them, not just the radiating warmth of his power.

“Then, to protect each other and Westchester, and to make ourselves whole, I will gladly bond with you Charles Xavier.”

* * *

 

In a perfect world, Charles and Erik would have bonded as soon as Charles went into heat and lived a peaceful, quiet life in Westchester, their entwined magic helping obscure the village from the priests seeking out more power.

In a perfect world, the trader Kurt Marko didn’t see the well-dressed Sharon Xavier while passing through or manage to win her regard.  He didn’t decide to settle in Westchester with Sharon and wait barely months before selling out the children of his new home.

In a perfect world, Erik wasn’t jolted out of his forging by Charles’s panicky mind-voice telling him to gather the children and run, Armando and Azazel clinging to his back as he barely evades the mage-hunters.

In a perfect world, Erik’s last thoughts as he left Westchester would not have been  the promise, “I will find you.”


	3. Found

Four years pass...

* * *

Erik is still outside the temple complex’s thick walls when he feels the first flare of power.  He looks around at his fellows, but there is no reaction from the other unbonded alphas, even ones who might rival Erik’s strength in magic.  Frowning, Erik concentrates harder when he abruptly realizes _why_ he is the only one who felt the magical burst.

  
No one else is as attuned to Charles’s magic as he is. (Or so he tells himself, relying on the belief that even chained Charles wouldn’t allow anyone to get close enough to grow accustomed to his power).

  
He has spent the last four years yearning for Charles’s touch: physical, mental, or magical. Even in his dreams Erik sought Charles out.

This small initial flare of magic is the first sign other than his own deeply held conviction that Charles is inside the temple complex.  Moira had cautioned him, told him that with Charles already being twenty he probably had entered his first heat and been bonded. 

Erik refused to believe it.  In his explanations to others he leaned on the truth that a bonded omega of Charles’s strength would have already been seen during the Southerner’s push towards the temple city.  There is no way that they would have held back a mage with mindspeaking abilities when he could have been used to coordinate entire armies.

Still, the pulse of Charles’s magic in the air tells Erik everything he needs to know.  Whether or not this is Charles’s first heat, the longing, the demand of the power filling the air shows that Charles remains unbonded. In his higher functions Erik is happy because that means Charles hasn’t had to deal with the horror of a forced bond and the subjugation that comes with a priest controlling Charles’s body and power.

In his lower, animal id, Erik is happy that he doesn’t have to kill another alpha in order to take Charles.  He quells that thought immediately, reminding himself he is more than his base instincts and that Charles, his Charles, is a friend and possible partner, not a mate to be won by fighting off competitors.

Erik will still kill any other alpha that touches Charles, he’ll just do it because Charles shouldn’t be taken advantage of, he assures himself.

The walls are almost breached, and soon the Southerners will move into the temple proper.  Plenty of them will be there simply to loot the riches collected by the priests, while others, like Erik, are there to secure the safety of loved ones.  Still others are there for vengeance.  Erik knows of at least two gelded alphas who do not intend to survive the coming fight, staying alive long enough only to kill those responsible for their maiming.

  
These thoughts pass quickly through his mind as he feels the magic swelling and growing.  If he doesn’t act soon, Charles will serve as a beacon for any alpha in the city, and Erik would rather not have to fight his way through a sea of his own comrades to get to Charles’s side.  He’ll happily wade through the blood of any priests who move to block him.

  
Signaling to Moira and Sean, the bonded couple joins him at a sheltered nook in the wall.  The crenelations block this little corner and the rest of the fighters are concentrating on the gate.  

Among the Southerners, every member has seen what Erik can do with metal.  And all weapons wielded in their forces have been touched by his magic.  Rationally, none of them will challenge him, but Erik knows that the blood in the air combined with heat pheromones could drive some of them to stupidity.

“Charles is inside and he’s entering his heat, I’m going up and over the wall.  Will you follow me? I’ll need someone to watch my back.”

Sean catches Moira’s eyes before nodding.  The male omega is the mage between the two.  They have a true mutual partnership, and he depends on Moira to direct the raw power singing in his veins.  Unlike Charles and Erik, Sean’s power grew wild and unfocused, leaving the omega vulnerable to his own power until Moira found him.

Taking the nod at face value, Erik scrambles up the wall, metal streaming from his hands and leaving metal finger and toeholds in his wake.  He trusts the pair to follow him.

By the time Erik has found the room Charles is holed up in, he has killed several priests and one omega who had been driven mad by the death of her bondmate.  Erik has followed a trail of scent and blood to this out of the way corner.  Catching his breath, Erik braces himself to pull the hinges from the door when he hears a meaty smack of hand against flesh and feels Charles’s magic shudder as a body falls to the ground.  

Unthinkingly, Erik slams his shoulder into the door. Before he can continue, Moira slaps him across the back of the head and hisses, “disarm whoever is in there first. No reason for you to die to stupidity now.”

Frowning, Erik places his palm against the door and yanks at the dagger he can feel moving in someone's hand.  As he does, Moira and Sean disintegrate the bolt holding the door closed.  Another slam into the door yields a satisfying blow as whoever held the dagger collides with the door.  

The scent of fresh blood blossoms in the air, and Erik smirks at the priest lying on the ground.  He cannot let himself be distracted by Charles, though he can see that the omega is half-naked on the floor out of the corner of his eye.  Anger swells in Erik’s gut, and a swift strike from his sword eliminates the other alpha.

Finally, _finally_ , Erik lets himself turn towards Charles.

A sharp discordant note sounds in Erik’s magic, emanating from the flask in Charles’s hand.  A swift kick removes the offending object and Erik drops to his knees beside his beloved.

Erik has seen the chains that they wrap unbonded omega mages in.  During the push towards the temple city, he has had plenty of experience releasing their magic and freeing mages.  Charles’s chains are unusually strong, and not for the first time Erik curses Marko for warning the priests of his stepson’s power.

It takes rigid self-control to not just pull Charles into his arms and soothe the magical pull with his body.  For all that Erik has thought of little else besides returning to Charles’s side, he never really thought he’d find Charles mid-heat.

An agreement made years ago that they would bond does not mean he has permission now, and even if it did, as long as Charles is chained a subjugation bond is the only one possible.  Erik cannot bear the thought of Charles ever being subdued in such a way, especially at his own hand.  So the alpha breathes shallowly through his mouth, trying to avoid the intoxicating effect of the pheromones filling the air.

The feverish haze in Charles’s blue eyes means that the omega probably doesn’t even recognize him, Erik realizes with a pang.

Pushing aside the pleasure of running his fingers along the skin of Charles’s wrists, Erik manages to unlink the shackles from Charles’s magical core, barely avoiding an upheaval as wild magic pulls free from the bonds.   Only the collar remains, and Erik hurries to remove it and free Charles completely.

As Erik moves to loosen the collar wrapped around the omega’s throat, Charles finally looks at him. Recognition dawns in the blue eyes and Erik gently drops a kiss on Charles’s forehead, murmuring reassurances as he releases the collar.  Erik is crouched over Charles, carefully not touching the younger man as he frees him.  Charles’s back arches as magic pours off him, his body writhing in its strength. 

Magic overwhelms the alpha once the suppression chains are fully removed, the power wraps around him, teasing his perception as it enfolds him.  The warmth and welcome of Charles’s magic fills Erik’s senses, and he does nothing but hold himself in place as he breathes in the long-missed feeling.

Abruptly, Erik returns to himself when Charles pulls him down on top of the omega’s body.  The warmth from Charles’s magic is nothing compared to the heat of his skin as the mage begins to pull Erik’s tunic loose.

“Charles, calm down,” Erik gasps.  He pins Charles’s hands to the floor as he tries to compose himself.  The omega lifts his hips off the ground, rubbing his unmistakable erection against Erik’s, who hadn’t even noticed himself growing hard.  

“Please Erik, please, it hurts,” Charles begs and then presses his lips to Erik’s. The kiss, their first, is something Erik has been imagining for nearly a decade.  There is no coyness or modesty in the omega’s lips.  Charles instead licks wantonly at Erik’s mouth until it opens under the caress. 

As Charles physically tries to bridge the gap between them, his power follows suit.  Rather than pouring out into the ether as a beacon to any available alphas, Charles magic locks onto Erik; the familiar mind and power soothing to the raging current that had been suppressed for too long. The omega’s magic teases at Erik, pulling his own power loose and twining about him, a siren’s call to give into the inevitable. 

Erik’s resistance is about to crumple when he sees movement outside the broken door.  Snarling, Erik shields Charles with his body and grabs for his sword.  Fortunately, it’s Sean and the omega is carefully averting his eyes from the pair on the floor.

“Moira and I cleared out a nearby room.  There’s a bed, and, well, no corpse.  It’s also more defensible than here since the door is still intact.”

Erik is lucid enough to understand what Sean is saying, so he nods agreement and stares at the man until he leaves.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable Charles,” Erik murmurs, pulling Charles into his arms as he stands.  Even as he relishes the weight of the omega cradled next to his body, Erik frowns as he feels how light he is.  Charles barely weighs more than he did the last time Erik held him, even though he has put on inches of height and a shows a very appealing broadening of shoulders.

Charles curls up into Erik’s chest and tucks his head against his neck.  Erik is relieved that Charles is cooperating until he feels the press of lips on his throat. The younger man’s tongue flicks out to taste Erik’s skin, and the alpha cannot refrain from groaning in pleasure at the sensation.  

The only thing that keeps Erik from just ravishing Charles where they are is the sudden realization of how dry Charles’s lips feel against his neck.  A dozen conversations with Brian Xavier on how to care for an omega who’s in heat echo in Erik’s mind and he chastises himself for nearly being lost to his instincts.  Charles deserves care and all the lucidity he can gain before this goes any further.

Erik pulls a half-filled water-skin from his belt and offers it to Charles.  The sudden realization of thirst is enough to distract the omega as Erik cautiously peaks through the doorway and into the corridor.  

It’s empty except for Sean, Moira apparently realizing that another alpha in Charles’s proximity, bonded or not, would lead to Erik lashing out.

Objectively it’s a short walk to the other room but it feels endlessly long to Erik.  By the time the door comes into sight, Charles has finished the water.  The omega has placed his lips on the skin right below Erik’s ear and is murmuring his name over and over, his voice rich with awe and happiness.

Erik nods at Sean’s promise to barricade the door and barely notes the man’s comment that a pack full of food and water-skins has been placed on a table.  All he can see as he carries Charles into the room is the large bed that dominates the space.


	4. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter

Erik carefully places Charles on the bed, unwinding the omega’s arms from around his neck and backs up before the he can be pulled down.  Charles may need more water and Erik knows that he needs some space himself if he wants to properly care for him.

Looking around, Erik spots the pack Sean had mentioned and goes to pull out another water-skin for Charles.  After a moment’s consideration he rummages through the pack to see if there is anything sweet for Charles, since Erik knows the other mage has always been partial to such things during time of stress.  To his delight he finds a small pack of honeybread wrapped in paper, one of Charles’s favorites, and he grabs it before turning back to his friend.

  
The water skin slips from his fingers.

  
In the short amount of time Erik has left Charles to his own devices, the man has stripped off his loose trousers and now lays naked in the center of the bed.  Four years of confinement in the temple means that Charles’s once healthily tanned skin is now pale, and Erik aches to mark it. 

  
Charles's posture is pure seduction, Erik thinks muzzily.  Pheromones have filled the air, but even without that inducement, Charles’s actions are overwhelmingly enticing. One hand is slowly stroking his cock, and the other is hidden beneath his body.  Soft moans fill the air as Charles arches into his own touch. His head is thrown back, revealing the long line of his bare neck, and Erik is moving before he even realizes it.

  
The water-skin and honey bread lay forgotten on the floor as Erik moves to the foot of the bed.  From this vantage point, Erik can see that Charles’s previously hidden hand is slowly stroking between his legs and the wet noise of slick is an intoxicating counterpoint to Charles’s moans. Erik’s knees hit the side of the bed and he crawls forward until he finds himself kneeling above the other man, his knees on either side of Charles’s hips.  

  
Without touching him, Erik tries to get Charles’s attention.

“Charles, please, stop for a moment and tell me what you want me to do.”

  
Blue eyes snap open, and Charles looks incredulously up at Erik.  “I want you.” To Erik’s relief, Charles stops touching himself, and places both his hands on Erik’s hips, grounding himself.  “Only you,” he sighs, and licks his lips.

Charles’s magic twines around Erik, the power coaxing him down.  Erik braces his forearm next to Charles’s head, while his other hand slides along Charles’s jaw to his unmarked neck.  On less powerful mages, a suppression collar would have left scars, but it is clear that Charles’s magic has shielded him against physical harm. If Erik leaves any lasting marks, it will be because Charles wants it.

As Erik strokes his neck, Charles’s hands begin to loosen Erik’s clothing, pulling at the leather ties securing his tented trews. When Charles’s hand slides inside the front to grip Erik’s cock, the alpha shudders for a moment in pleasure, eyes falling shut.  

Then Erik realizes that if he doesn’t get off the bed and strip his hauberk off, he’s liable to be stuck in the chainmail for hours. He’s used to that, the campaign lending itself to odd sleeping hours and near continual physical discomfort.  But he wants Charles to be comfortable, and he wants as much of his skin as possible to be pressed up against the other man. So he moves back and lurches to his feet, pulling free from Charles’s clinging hands.  Charles sits up, trying to follow Erik’s movement and is left alone on the bed with Erik out of his reach.

Charles is less than impressed with this action, and his magic reflects it.  The power snarls angrily around Erik at the perceived rejection as Charles snaps, “you need to either take me to bed or leave Erik.”  As the magic pulls forcefully at the alpha, Charles softens his tone, adding, “if you don’t want me, you need to leave.”

Erik is speechless, unsure how to respond to the entirely unwanted offer to leave.

At the silence, Charles continues, voice cracking on the words “I don’t want to force you.”  There is pain in Charles’s voice and Erik suddenly realizes that Charles needs to hear him agree just as much as Erik needed to hear Charles.  After four years shying away from the priests, Charles needs to know that he’s not forcing anything, and the chaos of his heat means he cannot simply look into Erik’s mind.

The power coils around Erik and he’s jerked closer to the bed, his body moving under its power rather than his own.  Erik can see Charles straining to pull his magic away Erik, to give him the option to go, when Erik’s own power finally shakes free from his iron control.

The chainmail melts off his body, loose pieces cutting through cloth under layers until he stands naked and clearly aroused for a bare moment before he’s back on the bed, pushing Charles’s shoulders to the mattress.  His hands move slowly and deliberately as he slides them down Charles’s arms to his wrists pulling them above Charles’s head and pinning them. Without breaking the heated eye contact that smolders between them, Erik grips both wrists with one hand and frees his other to cradle Charles’s chin.

“I want you.  I want this. You’re not forcing me to bond with you.” Charles breaks eye contact at that, twisting into Erik’s grip so he can kiss the calloused palm.  Erik can see tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes and he bends his head to kiss them away, whispering “I’ve loved you my entire life.”

Erik can distantly feel Charles’s magic pressing up against the walls of the room, calmer now that Erik has spoken.  Erik can see the magic skimming across his body and arching above the pair, presumably sealing them away from any interruption. His own magic twines with Charles’s in an echo of their upcoming physical union until they meld together.

Tilting Charles’s head so he can catch his lips, Erik releases Charles’s trapped wrists and slides his hand down to Charles’s waist.  The omega gasps into the kiss and Erik immediately takes advantage, licking his way into Charles’s mouth; Charles answers every motion with his own fierce kisses until Erik moves a hand from Charles’s waist onto his cock.  The omega reacts with a gasp and then with soft sighs of appreciation as Erik gently run his hand from base to tip. As Erik strokes, Charles falls languid and pliant under his touch in a way that has Erik feeling triumphant and protective all at once.

Erik finally allows himself to drop his weight onto the other man, enjoying the feel of Charles’s skin against his from torso down to his groin; his hand is still between them, gently teasing Charles’s cock until the man snaps and bucks into his loose grip, grinding against Erik’s erection with artless need.

Breaking the kiss, Erik slides down Charles’s body until his face is level with the omega’s cock, never taking his hands from Charles’s skin.  The scent of Charles’s want fills Erik’s nose and it’s all he can do to keep himself from licking his way into Charles.  Instead, Erik experimentally laves a line up the underside of Charles’s cock, listening for the omega’s reaction.

The gasping moan seems promising, so Erik continues as he slides one hand between Charles’s legs.  The other man’s legs spread without any prompting, leaving him exposed to Erik’s exploration.  He slides a hand from Charles’s hip under to the small of his back and lifts slightly.  A startled sound gives him pause, but when Charles raises no objection, Erik continues, raising the omega’s hips off the bed even as he lays kisses across Charles’s pale thighs.  

A soft sound of disappointment is Charles’s only reaction to Erik leaving his cock untouched, and that is subsumed in Charles’s hiss of pleasure as Erik sucks softly at the juncture of his leg and groin.  When he pulls back, Erik is pleased to see a small mark from his ministrations on Charles’s skin.  As he peppers kisses just above the thatch of gingery hair, moving so he can leave a matching mark on the other side, Erik contemplates his next move.  

Charles easily rolls with Erik’s prompting, turning onto his stomach while the alpha slides a pillow under his hips. Charles ruts against the surface, writhing in an attempt to get more friction until Erik’s hands grip his hips. 

“Patience Charles.  Just relax, I’m not going anywhere.” At another time Erik might have been self-conscious at the hoarseness of his voice, but now Charles fills his mind, blotting out any possible embarrassment.  Either his words or the sound of his voice are enough for Charles to mostly still his body, though Erik can still see tremors rippling across Charles’s shoulders.

Ducking down, Erik places a kiss on each of the dimples on Charles’s lower back, a half-forgotten memory of desire surfacing in his mind.  His hands glide from Charles’s hips until they’re firmly grasping his rounded ass, gently pulling to expose Charles’s entrance.  

A swipe of his tongue has Charles crying out in surprised pleasure and Erik begins to lick in earnest.

* * *

Charles tries to ground himself against the delirium of his heat as he clutches at Erik’s shoulders.  The knowledge that Erik is with him helps; even when he dreamed, he only dreamed of escaping the priests before he was forcefully bonded.  He never allowed himself to think about Erik bonding with him.

Of course, his efforts to stay lucid are made more difficult once Erik urges him to roll over and all he can concentrate on is the feel of Erik’s breath on his back and his hands’ slide across his ass.    When Erik’s tongue swipes against his hole, the alpha moans at the taste.  The noise pulled from Erik’s throat sounds as though he is ravenous, and afraid, and exhilarated all at the same time. Charles can feel Erik’s fingers tremble against his skin.

Erik’s tongue slips inside him with a flick of unfamiliar sensation that draws a gasp from Charles and an involuntary thrust back into the touch.  Erik freezes for a moment, before pushing in deeper with a soft, almost terrified sound of appreciation.

Charles writhes in Erik’s grasp, hips moving as much as he can with Erik pressed against him.  Charles claws desperately at the bed-cover, trying to get a grip on something when his hands find another pillow.  He grips it firmly, struggling to control his body as Erik continues.  Charles aches, but he’s not even sure what he _wants_ Erik to do; so he just lets himself enjoy the sensation of Erik exploring his body.

Erik is tasting him with a single mindedness that has Charles drenched in sweat and slick in a shockingly short amount of time.  Later, Charles would be glad Erik made him drink water before this, because the alpha’s ministrations have him soaked all the way down his thighs.  Erik shifts him slightly, angling to get better access while sounding raw with desire and pleasure.

Just as Charles is about to lose his mind from the almost, but not quite enough, feeling of Erik’s mouth, the other man slides a finger into him.  Startled, Charles clenches against the firmer penetration before relaxing as his body registers the welcome sensation of fullness.  Charles cannot see what Erik is doing, but he feels it when another finger slips inside.  

When Charles gives up any effort to control the movement of his hips, he hears Erik huff in amusement above him.  Four years apart and he still can understand Erik in a way he has never managed with anyone else.  Still, in spite of his amusement, Erik places his left forearm across Charles’s lower back, his right hand still occupied with stretching him open.  When Charles manages to shift slightly, he feels more weight being pressed on him.  And then Erik’s lips are resting against the curve of his ass, Erik’s head lying on his forearm to keep Charles from moving.

Finally Charles is overwhelmed by the aching in his body and magic.  Erik’s fingers and mouth are wonderful, but he needs more.  His first attempts to tell Erik are overtaken by whimpers of pleasure as the alpha continues to push into his body.  Finally he manages to gasp, “I’m ready, please Erik.”

For a moment Erik freezes, fingers deep inside him and mouth pressed against the small of his back. The sudden withdrawal makes Charles shiver involuntarily, buffeted by his own internal heat and the loss of Erik’s warmth.

Erik’s absence lasts only a moment.  The alpha crawls forward, chest dragging Charles as he moves.  The movement is swift, the glide of skin happening too fast for Charles to hold onto the feeling. Finally (even moving so quickly it’s far too long for Charles), Erik aligns his body with Charles’s.  His lips immediately fall to the nape of Charles’s neck as though he could barely stand the moments he wasn’t tasting the omega’s skin.  

Then Erik is pressed against him, the blunt head of his cock nudging at Charles’s ass. Charles has a moment to think that’s he’s lucky this is happening so quickly, without giving him time to be overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions as Erik pushes into him.

Charles gasps at the slow movement of Erik’s cock and shifts his hip slightly, the motion pushing them closer together.  The slickness and stretch from Erik’s fingers combined with the heady want pulsing through Charles’s body means that Erik’s cock slides in with one fluid motion.  

Charles’s vision whites out and he can only repeat the thought to himself that this is Erik, this is Erik inside him, thrusting smoothly into his body even as his breath exhales in strangled pants.  There is a slight ache, but it is overwhelmed by the relief of his body finally getting what it has been demanding for hours.

Erik’s next thrust is much harder, and Charles cries out in a thoughtless reaction.  Erik stops, sagging a bit over Charles, his lips lifting from the omega’s next to gasp out a question.

“Are you okay?”

Charles is half-mad with want, and fucks himself backwards, unable to speak a response.   Erik takes the hint and continues his movements, only this time he accompanies the thrusts with stinging bites across Charles’s shoulders.  A particularly strong nip at the tendons along Charles’s throat has the omega crying out in pleasure again, pushing backwards desperately into Erik’s onslaught.  

The change in angle sends a sweet, sharp shock up Charles’s spine as pleasure pools in his loins.  Erik continues to move and Charles lets his head fall forward onto the pillow, Erik chasing his skin as he drops.  Charles manages to pry his fingers from their death grip on the cushion to slide down to his own cock.  Erik’s thrusts drive him into his own grip, and the pleasure continues to build.

Erik’s nips grow into harder bites. In response, Charles’s magic, previously content to shield the pair from any interruptions, begins to ghost along the surface of his skin.  Erik’s power follows suit until there are waves of magic following the thrust of Erik’s hips and pooling where Erik’s lips are pressed to juncture of Charles’s neck and shoulder.

Strangled whispers of “please” and “yes” fall from Charles’s lips until Erik’s teeth clamp down on his skin, breaking the surface, just as his hips press against Charles’s ass with a devastatingly forceful thrust.  

Charles comes, with a cry of pleasure and triumph as their joint magic bonds them together, healing the wound Erik’s teeth left and branding the alpha with a matching mark.  Above him, Erik groans in relief, pushing deeper into his mate.  The swelling of Erik’s cock inside him spikes Charles’s fading orgasm and he moans in ecstasy as Erik collapses against his back, bearing them both to the mattress.

Charles loses consciousness almost immediately, falling into the relief of safety and love that the new bond offers him.  When he wakes, he is on his side; Erik curled against him, still linked together physically and magically.

* * *

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still feeling out my writing style for explicit scenes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was first posted on my tumblr. (http://square-pancake.tumblr.com/) I will be cleaning it up and posting it here over the next few days. I wrote later parts in present tense and edited this chapter to match, but I'm not certain if I like the change. Comments are eagerly welcomed.


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